


Eyes

by CosmeerSpots



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Other, i took a shower and got slapped by an idea and basically went FUCK YEAH WE DOIN THAT, the other sibs are mentioned but only a tad, uhhhhhh nothin else tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:33:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26261203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmeerSpots/pseuds/CosmeerSpots
Summary: Eyes are windows to the soul. But what if someone doesn’t have any real ones? Can they still lose themself to loves?
Relationships: Grimm/The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel
Comments: 5
Kudos: 81





	Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Grollow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grollow/gifts).



> Hey Luci ;)

Eyes.

Eyes are strange things, that not everyone has. And not everyone has two.

Hollow has seen many eyes, with their own that aren’t really real. They've stared through them and into them, depending on in which chapter of their life they were in. Their life, so far, has three chapters. Each has a lovely title, The Pure Vessel, The Sun’s Prison, The Hollow Knight- or just Hollow, for the last one, honestly. They might end up changing the title into that at some point.

The first chapter, they mostly only stared through bugs’ eyes. Lazily and without any thought- because thought is something they shouldn’t have had- they peered into minds of all kinds of bugs, but never bothering to read them. Reading requires a mind of own. And that was not something they should have, either.

The second chapter, they've seen only orange eyes. They've seen and seen, until they suddenly had eyes of their own. Bulging and dripping onto the floor, bright warm acid sizzling away at chains, floor, cloth and their very own face. That part of their life is the least favorite. Maybe, because they never really seen, then. _She_ saw through them.

The third and ongoing chapter is so far their most favorite. Name is something that they have now. Hollow… How nicely does it sound when they repeat it in their very much own mind to make sure that they still have it, to feel _named_ for a second a little bit more than normally. Their name is much better than a designation or a title. A vessel… A knight… A prison… All words that had the “a” before them, making them into an it, into something that could've been lost and replaced.

But there’s only one Hollow.

And Hollow _sees-_ not that great, truthfully, their vision is not what it used to be, but they can still _see_ whatever they please.

There’s a lot to see and look at, in this world. For example, their three handfuls of siblings- three, because each lovely soul and shade deserves to have a hand to hold.

Of course, there’s their sister. The little red something, that likes to hold them close by both evenings and mornings, has two eyes. Those are easy to get lost in, to fall prey to. Because they are filled with strength and unbreakable resolve, power and focus and knowledge that is thought only by surviving world ridiculously long without anyone. That they are sorry for. For the loneliness. But she bends and reforges her gaze into something soft, when she spots their worry and self-blame.

Overall, they love their sister’s eyes and her gaze. Peering into them is a wonder and an honor. And they love her whole, too.

One of the siblings that is so like them, likes to wear gold and silver, jewelry and lights, making themself into some sort of spawn of the night sky. Truly, they shouldn’t have eyes. Just like Hollow, they are filled with the absence of everything. But still, somehow, there’s shine and glimmer in their eye sockets, reflecting the fairy lights hanging on their horns, making the corners sparkle and laugh along with them after telling a bad joke that sister groans about. Their eyes are filled with certain mischief, cleverness and amusement that makes them feel safe.

Staring into those eyes is like searching moonlit lakes. Hollow loves to dive into them from time to time. And they love them whole, too.

The last and smallest sibling has, somehow, the biggest not-eyes out of them all. They are wide and they look into and onto the world with a blooming amount of emotions, never afraid to show what their not-heart feels. In their eyes, there’s a lot of things playing. Divine horrors that are somehow too wonderful to look away from, that are somehow far too safe to shun from mind and world. There’s innocence and experience and there’s love, happiness and sadness and anger and _everything_ else, too.

Looking on them and into them is a journey that Hollow is willing to take every single time. The little sibling is like an encyklopedia full of everything they've been missing for probably far too long. Hollow loves their little book of emotions and joy with not-eyes that speak to them every day. And they love them whole, too.

But the most beautiful pair of eyes that they've ever stared into were the crimsons of a Troupe Master.

So much they could say about them. How wonderful they are, how strong, how strange in the best kinds of ways, how… how _incredible..._ Their breath keeps being stolen by him every single time he looks their way. Every single time they catch a spark of scarlet flames in the corners of his eyes.

His eyes are filled with contagious courage. When he shoots them a wink during one of his dances, one of his performances, Hollow feels like they could jump onto the pink lit floor after him. As if they had all the bravery in the world to make a breathtaking difference, to take him by the hand and spin with him, rest their forehead against his.

Of course, they never do so. Only ever do they feel their heart leap into their throat and pound there for another five minutes, before they manage to shake their head and rest a hand on their chest, blush blooming on their cheeks.

Somehow, his eyes are nicer than any other and they never lose themself in them. Instead, they keep finding their own self in a way that is almost magical and unbelievable, except it keeps happening, proving its will to be _r_ _eal._

Even while they lie next to each other, even while they sit near, they are glued to him. To the most beautiful color they've probably ever seen in bug’s eyes.

“What is the matter, love gentle mine?” Grimm purrs out and they think that their breath might’ve hitched again at the tiniest movement of his eyes as he smiles at them. “Do you see something that your affections have decided to adore, perhaps?”

A signed answer is maybe what he seeks. But all that Hollow can do is move their hand to settle on his cheek, claws running down the edge of his face softly even as he leans into the touch, making them suddenly heavily exhale.

Gods and stars and everything else that deserves to be mentioned, how lucky are they to find themself sitting right next to him?

At some point they find the will in themself to take their hand away, so they could sign to him, “I love you, I just- You’re so beautiful, your eyes…” Oh, his eyes… Full of stories and journeys, full of lives lost and terrors and yet the loveliest things in existence…

“Hmm… Well, yours are possibly even more enchanting, dear.”  
  
“How so? They aren’t even truly there.”

“You say that-” he tells them, taking their lone hand in his, shuffling closer still, “-and yet you sit here, before me. With somehow both empty and full eyes, with jewels made out of the dark between the stars, reflecting wonders that I somehow both know and don't.”

Maybe their breath hitches just the smallest bit as they lean backwards, staring into the most exquisite face in existence, claws flexing as they hold his hand more properly.

“The flames of my heart burn bright, but they look even better in your night in a way that I doubt is possible to explain. I can see ages and travels of pain in your gaze and yet you look so high above, staring right into me, seeing me and only me.” His face is right in front of theirs, so near that their wildly distinct temperatures collide and flow against each other.

“My darling and sweetest, you say that eyes are not something that has been gifted to you. And perhaps that is right. Maybe correct to some degree. But you still look at me like no one else.”  
  
“My midnight, my only, your eyes contain the universe of mine. And…,” he leans oh so close, oh so painfully close. Hollow can feel his breath on the tip of their mask, a promise of the most perfect gesture that they can never get quite enough of.

“And you are mine all.”  
  
And he kisses them, so sweetly and slowly that it both takes their breath away and gives it right back.

Eyes are strange things, that not everyone has.

But Hollow has them. And they are happy that _he,_ out of every breathing and non-breathing creature, found himself in them.


End file.
